What I DID learn from my own mistakes was that it’s hard owning yourself. It’s hard being responsible for your own actions, your own health and the impact you make on others. It’s hard to find a place where you belong and difficult to commit to relationships with others who are also struggling to do the same. In the process we often confuse power with love without realising they diametrically opposed. We hurt others or are hurt by them as we wheel from one experience to another – and slowly (if we are lucky) we accumulate a sobering wisdom, or are drawn in upon ourselves, falling into depression, or loneliness or an abundant narcissism.
It’s been a slow start, but many more people are taking interest in sharing their stories. Like me, it takes a long time – for lots of reasons – to get a piece together. Especially when some haven’t considered it until recently. Please – if you know someone – ask them to consider sharing their story of adoption.
Originally posted at A Digital Perspective
Without a doubt this is something I’d never thought I’d share across a blog. 20 something years ago I was adopted from an orphanage in Bogota, Colombia. It’s something I live with. Something I think about every day. It’s everything and nothing to me. It’s taken me, and is still taking me, most of my life so far, to accept that it is just something a part of me, but that there is so much more.
Being a guy I’ve always felt the need to be hard. To be ruthless with feeling. To be self assured. The same feelings that I felt gave me strength, left me feeling totally isolated. I learned to live a different life. I still don’t let anyone too close too quickly.
The photo above is me sitting in La Ciudad Perdida (The Lost City) after trekking for 3 days into the Colombian jungle